Family Love Is Unconditional
by Rian Moeru
Summary: Jack has spent his entire life in an orphanage, tired of every day passing by and becoming no closer to escaping it's walls. Will the visit of two strange men help change his life for the better?
1. Chapter 1

**This is going to be an annual fic. Meaning that I will update it once a year, at around this time. Feel free to tell me what you think.**

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Jack sighed as he stared out the window of the orphanage, bored at least halfway to death. It was pouring rain outside, so all the kids and the few teenagers had been cooped inside together, making it cramped and uncomfortable in the already small and uncomfortable building.

This was not a good thing. Small children tended to become bored very easily and teenagers, who weren't tolerable of their incessant whining and pouting, became easily annoyed. The adults in charge had it worst of all, having to listen to the complaints on both sides. There had already been a few fights and shouting could be heard on both floors of the orphanage, making peace and quiet unattainable.

Jack was one of the few who didn't whine, minding his own business as he stared outside. He knew that complaining wasn't going to help him -or anyone else- at all, and so remained quiet and spooned his lunch, (a meager bowl of a watery substance that had no business being called soup) and watched a small group of young children playing with marbles, laughing and chattering. He was saddened by their bright smiling faces and and innocent laughter. In a few years time they would be just as worn down and weary as the adults, and lose themselves in this ashen place.

Most here had arrived because their parents had died or were unsuitable or unable to care for them. Jack had been here for as long as he could remember, having been left on the doorstep as a baby. His first memory had been when he was four, watching jealously from afar as a another boy had been led away by a kind, round faced looking woman.

Adoption was a far off dream that Jack could never hope to reach.

Why had he been left here? Did his parents not want him, or had they died in the war that had ended shortly after his coming here? He didn't know and neither did anyone else, and if they did, they weren't sharing.

The years had come and gone, and no one had ever came to claim Jack or adopt him, forced to watch the others leave with new parents, some his friends, never to return.

The only ray of light in this oppressive and dark tunnel was that, in about two years time, he would finally be able to leave and never have to look at this wretched place ever again. It was what kept him going, day after day, and kept his nose in the books. He was hoping to earn a scholarship if he ever hoped to go to college and better himself.

If he could, he would have ran away right now, but he knew better. He had no way of supporting himself out there, and no one would hire a no name orphaned teen off the streets. He had to grit his teeth and bear it. Still, it didn't mean he had to _like_ it. Two more years of bossy patrons and angst driven teens. Yay.

Jacks eyes flicked to the left as he saw a shadow in the corner of his eye, shuffling to the door. Who was unlucky enough to have business here on a rare rainy day like this?

His question was answered shortly after when two men entered the building. Odd was the only word to describe the eye catching pair, drawing attention from the others in the hall and room.

The shorter of the two had bright orange hair, streaked with white from age. He looked to be older and had sharp blue eyes that were scanning over the now silent room. There was a touch of impatience in his gait, looking appalled by the poor state of the walls and floors.

The other was tall and imposing, and though looked younger, had years of experience etched on his handsome, sun kissed face. A shock of vivid blue hair covered his head, a twelve o'clock shadow on his chin, predicting he would have a beard and goatee soon. His presence demanded respect and obedience.

They didn't have to wait long, as no one else was there, and were motioned toward the welcoming desk. The woman who greeted them, Mrs. Devaden, was among the kinder adults, if a little strange. She wasn't intimidated in the slightest by their arrival. Jack left, rolling his eyes as the little ones stared in awe.

"May I help you?" She asked as they approached, looking up. The blue haired man nodded.

"Yes. I believe we are expected?"

"Your names please?"

"Optimus Prime and Ratchet." He answered.

If she was surprised by the famous name, she didn't let on. She turned back to the computer, pressed in a few keys, and searched for today's appointments. "Ah yes, here you are." Mrs. Devaden replied after a brief moment. "You're here to inspect the building and check up on the care of the children yes?"

"Yes, now if we could hurry this along please. It's been a long drive in the rain and I rather this be over sooner rather than later." The orange haired man, Ratchet, huffed impatiently.

"I apologize." The patron replied dryly, not sounding sorry at all as she stood. "Right this way sir..."

Optimus and Ratchet followed here out of the room, into the hall, and through the main room, glancing around. Mrs. Devaden followed the gaze of her guests, roving over the shabby furniture and leaky roofs, pail buckets waiting below to catch the droplets of water.

"It is...not what I expected." Optimus admitted, locking eyes with Mrs. Devaden. She nodded in agreement, knowing exactly what he meant.

"It has become rundown in the last few years. We barely have the money to feed those here, let alone pay for repairs and replacements. There has been no funding for quite some time. It's been hard on those who work here and worse for those who live here."

"That is unfortunate." Optimus said sincerely.

"Yes, well, no one gives a damn about a few hungry orphans as long as they can continue on with their normal lives. They can't be bothered to help those less fortunate than themselves." She said spitefully. Optimus and Ratchet were quite shocked by how passionate she was about the topic. They opened their mouths to speak, but before they could get the word out she continued her mantra.

"We do what we can though, making sure there's enough food and blankets to go around. It's a bit of a miracle really that we can manage to care for all the orphans staying with us. It's crowded as it is. We've simply no more room to spare."

Optimus stared at her, lost for words.

"...I see." He managed finally as they entered the crowded dining hall.

It was a pitiful sight, seeing small children eating food that looked like it came from a can of mystery meat out of cracked bowls and chipped plates. They teens among them were weary and tired looking, worn down by the dreariness of their lives.

One in particular caught his attention. The teenager had short dark hair, pale skin, was around five foot six with stormy blue eyes. He was comforting a small boy who had managed to hurt his hand, murmuring soft words and smiling warmly, wiping away a few tears from the rosy cheek. He brushed a hand through the little ones hair, muttering a few inaudible words. The boy laughed and sniffled at the same time as he was lifted and placed on chair. Jack pushed his bowl to the child, and while the boy scrunched his nose in disgust, he ate it dutifully at the teens urging. A full tummy was better than an empty one.

"Pardon me miss." Optimus directed at their guide. "Who is that young man over there?" Mrs. Devaden turned her head to where Optimus was looking.

"Oh, that's Jack. He's been here ever since he was a baby." She explained. "He's a sweet boy, but never had much luck with the adults or visitors. He's a little awkward around people he doesn't know."

"No last name?" Ratchet asked.

"We don't know sir. There was no note when he was left on our doorstep, and no one has ever called to claim him as their son."

Optimus hummed in thought. "May we speak with him?" He asked suddenly, getting a surprise look from the woman.

"Ah yes, though he might be a little..." She struggled for the right words, then decided to the hell with it. "I'll just let you find out for yourself. This way please."

Optimus and Ratchet eyed each other, silently agreeing that the woman was, while good natured and friendly, odd and had an eccentric personality. She led them to the table with a look of uncertainty. Jack had looked up by then, his eyes filled with mistrust and resentment.

"Jack?" She greeted, smiling kindly down at him. "Would you mind talking with these two?"

"Yes I would." Jack answered bluntly. "I was in the middle of something, so if it's not important, I'd like to get back to it."

Optimus raised a curious brow. "We won't take much of your time. If you would answer a few of our questions this will be over soon."

Jack grumbled incoherently. He just wanted them to leave, was that so much to ask for? Apparently yes when the two invited themselves to sit down, and he blew out a sigh. "Fine. Just make it quick alright?" He snapped. Mrs. Devaden gave Optimus the 'I told you so look,'.

"Yes, I will try my best." Said Optimus, unperturbed by Jacks rudeness.

So Optimus began to play twenty questions with him, (or at least it seemed that way to Jack) asking him what he thought of the orphanage, how he felt about the caretakers, and whether or not he thought they were neglectful. On and on it went, the hours seeming to drag on slowly, Jack growing more uncomfortable and irritated by the minute. He wasn't used to anyone paying attention to him, or even talking to him. Unless you counted when people would stop and stare at him when Vince would beat him up at school, and Jack wouldn't have.

It finally ended with Optimus asking about his time in the orphanage, eliciting a glare from the teen. Optimus realized that this was a question to far, and cleared his throat.

"Thank you for your time Jack. We appreciate it very much."

"Yeah whatever..." Jack grumbled. "I'm leaving now."

And with that he got up and left without another word, not waiting for a reply. Ratchet looked to Mrs. Devaden, hoping for an answer.

"Jack is a sensitive boy." She explained simply.

"So it would seem." Optimus said, glancing to the corner where Jack had disappeared. "Thank you for allowing us to visit Mrs. Devaden."

"Anytime." She replied and it was obvious that she had meant it.

Optimus and Ratchet gathered themselves, giving a quick farewell as they left. Ratchet shifted as they opened the door, stepping out into the rain. Not a single drop of water glistened in his hair, or even dampened his clothes. This held true for Optimus as well.

"We shall have to visit again old friend."

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt..." He grumbled, shuffling his clothes.

They disappeared in the rain, leaving no trace that they had been there at all, not even footsteps in the muddy ground. Engines revved in the dark and two vehicles could be heard driving away.

**If anyone can figure out how Jack came to be in the orphanage I'll give them a cyber cookie!**


	2. Chapter 2

**So, here's a new chapter much sooner than I previously stated in the last one. Mostly because I was being poked by Inkcrafter to write another and because of the reviews asking that I update sooner. Also, since I received a lot of reviews, I decided it couldn't hurt. They inspire me to write more, so the more reviews I get, the more likely I am to write! So thanks everyone!**

**Also, to those guessing about why Jacks in the orphanage, I'd like to say that while one person partially guessed the 'who' no one answered the 'why'. Ah, well. Keep trying! XD And please leave a review!**

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Everyone in the orphanage was running around, doing something as opposed to doing nothing, as they were accustomed to. There were more smiling faces than Jack had seen in a long time. Jack supposed it had something to do with Optimus and Ratchet. Ever since they had visited, funding was pouring in (though no one knew where it was coming from), and everyone was pitching in to do their part with the repairs, save for those too small or young.

A veil had lifted over the residents of the orphanage and a new day gleamed over the horizon. Even the weather seemed to reflect their renewed spirits. Gone was the dreary, steel gray clouds, replaced by a shining sun and endless blue skies as far as the eyes could see.

Jack smiled, watching two older teens carrying planks of wood to the constructions workers, busy at their new task of restoring the building to livable conditions. It was slow, arduous work, and they often had to leave, sometimes for whole days, so that they could work without worrying about children running about, but there wasn't a soul here who didn't eagerly anticipate new rooms, better beds and working AC.

Jack however, had begun to wonder about the money given to the orphanage. Who was shoving out that much cash, and how were they able to keep it up? They had to be very wealthy, Jack thought. He often worried that the money was illegal, counterfeited perhaps. If it was, there would be trouble, the government would swoop down on their necks and the orphanage would likely face foreclosure if that ever happened.

Somehow he just knew that those men had to be behind it all. He wasn't fool enough to believe that it was a mere coincident that mere days after they had left, that money would start flowing back in and improvements in the standard of living made? He may not have been the smartest person in the world, but it didn't take a genius to figure that out. And he couldn't help the feeling that something was going to happen.

Therefore, Jack wasn't surprised that a few days later, they had returned to the orphanage. The orange haired man at least. He didn't see any blue among the heads bobbing outside the door.

Ratchet certainly knew how to capture attention, driving up in an emergency vehicle and catching many curious eyes. Exiting the car, Jack saw that he was carrying a large case, and thought that the man must have been a doctor of sorts. He looked the part at least.

Sensing that he was being stared at, Ratchet turned, locking eyes with Jack, who returned his gaze. Only when his eyes began to water and sting did he look away, cheeks stained a light pink. Smirking, Ratchet went about with his business, speaking with the lady at the desk in hushed tones that Jack couldn't make out.

He was pulled out of his thoughts quite abruptly when the lunch belle rang, singling for everyone to come to the dining hall. Jack picked up his things, heading toward that way.

The smells wafting from the kitchens was enough to make his stomach growl anxiously it was so good. Better than normal at least. Jack was pleasantly surprised when he saw that they were having a cookout (or a cook in, depending on who you asked), complete with burgers and hot dogs, and even greasy, salty fries. He hadn't known they bought new equipment!

It was not the healthiest food in the world, but none complained about being served this rare and delicious treat. They even had condiments! What should he put on his, he wondered, eyeing the cheese, pickles and much more.

Put quite simply, it was the best meal he had had since he could remember. Smacking his lips and licking his fingers, he washed it down with a glass of (dare he believe it?) soda, happy with his full, content belly.

He should have, however, known that it wouldn't have lasted forever. An hour later, when everyone was resting and taking it easy, Ratchet decided to pop his carrot colored head into the room.

"All right boys and girls, it's time for your checkup!" He announced, much to the surprise of the rooms occupants. He sounded delighted.

"Checkups?" Said one boy of about eleven, looking confusedly at Ratchet. "What do we need that for?"

Ratchet rolled his eyes. "To make sure you're healthy of course. And because I say so. We'll be taking blood samples and giving flue shots. No one is exempted from their checkup." He finished in a warning tone, as if daring them to try running away. They gulped.

"Uh...sure. Whatever you say!" Said that same boy, edging away slowly as if Ratchet were mad or deranged.

"Good!" Ratchet exclaimed cheerily, doing a one-eighty from his normal self, smiling at each of them. It served to make them even more nervous. He motioned them forward with a hand. "You'll be called out one at a time to either me or one of them." He pointed to the other adults, all wearing the same badges.

Ratchet began to call them out in alphabetical order, ignoring frightened looks that the first children to go gave him. Jack was oblivious to this. His hearing had gone fuzzy after having heard Ratchet say that ominous word- flu shot. Whatever else Ratchet said had been drowned out and he felt an involuntary shiver run down his spine as he sat nervously down on the couch.

He wasn't scared, no, not of a little shot. No, that was ridiculous. There was nothing to be frightened of from a sharp, pointy needle that would pierce his vein and draw out his blood and a sickening, weak feeling that would follow it. Jack groaned.

He waited for his name to be called out, somewhat thankful that his name started with a 'J'. It meant he wouldn't be among the first to be called. His leg shook with worry, wringing his hands together, feeling anxious. Jack couldn't help imagining what they were doing in the other room, his mind conjuring the image of a doctor holding up a comically large syringe.

When he was finally called (following after a girl named Irene), he nearly bolted. With a gulp he steeled himself and went forward. Ratchet crossed his arms in annoyance when Jack took his sweet time, taking the smallest steps he possibly could to stall the inevitable.

"If you were any slower you would be going backwards!" Ratchet said in an irritated tone. he grabbed Jacks arm, pushing him along with a hand at the teens back. Jacks leg didn't seem to want to cooperate, and his hills skidded across the floor as he was guided (unwillingly) into one of the larger rooms where medical equipment had been set up and children were being looked at by the adults. Those leaving had suckers in their mouths, and more than a few had tears in their eyes and pink noses.

"Well?" Said Ratchet. "Are you going to sit down and let me get on with my work, or are you going to stand there gawking all day?"

Jack realized just then that they were already at Ratchets station. Looking from the man drumming his fingers on the table he sat near, his eyes fell onto the empty syringes. Ratchet gestured for Jack to take a seat, and he did so, albeit hesitantly.

"This won't take long." Ratchet assured, preparing a needle. "A small blood sample and a shot, and then we're done." He promised, flicking the needle with his finger. He strapped a band over Jacks forearm and it soon turned pink and the vein bulged.

Jacks breath hitched in his chest as they came in short, quick pants as Ratchet neared, sweat on his brow and eyes widening. He was a foot away...now half a foot...three inches...almost there...

Jack passed out. The next thing he was aware of was his face being slapped.

"Wake up!" Someone shouted, worry etched in the voice. "You're causing a scene!" It hissed in his ear, and now the hands were shaking him.

Groaning, Jack lifted himself to his knees, hand on a throbbing ache in the back of his head. He opened his eyes and the world spun around him. There were three carrots floating around him and they seemed to be talking, asking if he was alright. Jack blinked them away, closing his eyes and holding his face.

When he opened them again he recognized the worried face of Ratchet, who was holding out a hand for him to take. Jack took a firm grasp of it, pulling himself up.

"Ugh...what happened?" He muttered, rubbing the painful lump on his head.

"You passed out. Hit your head pretty hard on the floor." Ratchet deadpanned, eyes flicking to the hand that was cradling his head. "Are you okay?" He added, voice softening a fraction.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine..." Jack replied a little too quickly, reddening when Ratchet raised a bushy orange brow.

"I can tell." Said Ratchet, leaning back. "Don't like needles?"

"Not particularly."

"Nothing to be ashamed of." Ratchet chuckled, much to Jacks embarrassment. "A friend of mine squeals like a little girl when it comes to pests. Half of my equipment was damaged because of him because he saw one running around."

"Oh really?" Jack said politely.

"Yes, the clumsy fool..." Ratchet continued, seeming to talk more to himself than Jack. "To big and accident prone for his own good. I'm amazed he's lived this long."

"Sounds like a big softie."

"Oh yes, very much so. He would do anything for his friends." He said absently. "You can go now by the way."

Jack blinked.

"Wha-? But I thought you needed to take a blood sample or something?"

The man smirked triumphantly, holding up a small vial of dark red blood. "Already have. Gave you your shot too." He laughed as Jack looked down in astonishment at his arm, seeing a prick in his vein.

"But how...when did you...you distracted me!" Jack accused, hand shooting to where Ratchet was placing a square piece of gauze on his arm and securing it with a piece of tape. He scowled at the medic, doctor, nurse, whatever the heck he was and smacked his hand away.

"And it worked fabulously well, considering you never even noticed."

The youth huffed, looking away as a vein pulsed in his head, irked. He stood, ignoring the man who was smirking at him. There was a cough and he heard his name and turned to see what else the man could possibly want with him.

"What?" He asked, wishing he could just get out of here. Ratchet shoved something into his hand and he saw that it was it was a sucker. He narrowed his eyes when Ratchet continued to smile, becoming more annoyed with each second.

"Just making sure you got your reward for being a good patient."

"Oh shut up!" Jack said through gritted teeth, pushing past Ratchet (still smirking), and hurriedly making his way to the exit. He slipped through the children in the halls, heading toward his room. Once there, he flopped down onto his bed, burying his face in the pillow, and screamed into it. Why did the guy have to be such a prick?!

And why did they need these stupid checkups anyway? Everyone here was healthy! Well...healthy for being half starved and without medical care for years...Okay, so maybe it wasn't entirely pointless, and maybe they meant well. He didn't care as long as the little ones were taken care of. Jack didn't like seeing them ill.

Jack seized his chest as a sudden tightening feeling constricted his chest, coughing into his hand. He felt warm liquid splatter against his palm and drew back once his coughing fit was over. Droplets of blood covered his hand, and he stared at it as the annoying tight feeling eased away. A look of weariness creased his face.

This had been happening for the past year, though seldom, and he wondered what was wrong with him. He didn't know where the tight feeling came from, or why he coughed up blood. There were no sharp pains in his lungs, so he didn't think there was anything wrong with his breathing. It did nothing to ease his worry. Maybe he was getting a disease...maybe he was just suffering from a long term illness.

Still, he didn't feel as though he were going to die anytime soon, so he kept it to himself. It was damn hard though, since keeping glistening bloody hands from being seen was difficult enough in it's own right, not counting when it happened around the others. He wasn't going to cause the others worry if he could help it, or cause unnecessary trouble.

He turned to the window, content to stare out into the sky. It was hours into the evening when he saw the medics leaving the building, their equipment in tow. He saw Ratchet stopping to talk with Optimus. Odd, he thought. He hadn't seen Optimus all day and that vivid blue hair was hard to miss. Where had he been all this time?

Jack shrugged, turning away, laying on his side in the bed. It wasn't his business, and thus not his concern and felt that the sooner they left, the better.


End file.
